


Fuck U Betta

by jacaranda_bloom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealous Harry, Jealous Louis, Light BDSM, Louis is a Tease, Louis is a brat, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Harry, Possessive Louis, Top Harry, Toys and Restraints, louis in a thong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25220443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/pseuds/jacaranda_bloom
Summary: There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 71
Kudos: 305





	Fuck U Betta

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and welcome to this entirely self-indulgent deep-dive into my favourite kind of smut. I appreciate it may not be everyone’s cup of tea and many of my regular readers will likely think I’ve strayed a little far from the pack, but I present it for your enjoyment anyway.
> 
> It’s raw and real and mostly unconstrained by the usual confines of plot and character development, although not entirely. That said, you won’t find a preamble, nor my usual trademark epilogue. But! That’s kind of the reason why it’s here, like this, laid bare for the taking.
> 
> It can be hard to incorporate this type of smut in my regular fics because it often doesn’t fit with the story I’m trying to tell and would therefore seem out of place. So this little fic is the result of that pent up frustration.
> 
> Don’t worry though, I promise to return to my regular fic writing now that I’ve worked this out of my system.
> 
> Anyway. Here it is. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> ( _Note: The story that follows should not be used in replacement of responsible research on BDSM techniques. Safe, Sane, Consensual! _)__
> 
> The commissioned cover artwork for this fic was created by the immensely talented Tanya (aka wilywolf). Please go and show them some love on [ Tumblr ](https://wilywolf.tumblr.com/) and [ Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/wilywolf92/).
> 
> Massive shoutout to my wonderful beta [ Nicola](https://missytearex.tumblr.com/), who waded through this subject matter stoically, I truly can’t thank you enough.

Harry slams Louis up against the wall, picture frames shaking, one teetering before clattering to the ground, glass thankfully remaining intact.

“Fuck,” Harry grunts out as he dives into Louis’ neck, grabbing his wrists and forcing his hands up above his head, biting him hard on the throat. Louis whimpers, all meek and put upon, as though he didn’t have this coming. It’s gonna leave a mark. _Good_. Harry wants to leave marks, wants to claim him, own him. No one gets to mess with Louis and flirt with him and touch him. No one except him.

Louis is wriggling. Whining. _There’s too much movement._ He kicks Louis’ legs apart making his arms go taut as he hangs from Harry’s grip like he’s one of the frames sitting askew on the wall. _That’s better._

Harry ducks his head down further and fits his mouth over Louis’ nipple through his thin t-shirt. He sucks on it, sawing his teeth and making his boyfriend cry out, muscles tensing and chest concaving, trying to escape but there’s nowhere to go.

The fucking t-shirt. When Harry had arrived at the club, the white, practically see-through material had been like a beacon under the black-light. On the dance floor, Louis had gathered a crowd of fawning idiots, men, drooling over him, acting like they had a chance. _Fools._ A sweaty, seething mass of bodies; hands and tattoos and manicured stubble, too much hair product and cologne, hungry stares and seductive glances. Not that Louis was doing anything to discourage them. Popping his hips and holding their attention with his lithe muscles and enticing curves.

Harry moves over to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment as he wedges his knees between Louis’ legs, forcing them further apart, feet scrambling for purchase on the slippery wooden floor.

Louis twists his hands trying to get out of Harry’s grip, making little fists and bucking his hips. _Nice try._ Harry is wise to his tricks though. He raises up his head and stares at Louis who is pointedly avoiding his gaze, chin angled towards the ceiling in defiance. _Such a little shit._ Harry shifts his weight forwards and pushes his hip against Louis’, leaning to the side so there’s no friction on their straining cocks. Louis whines again, frustrated and desperate, lips parted, small pants coming out of his pretty pink mouth. _Gonna fucking wreck him. Show him who he belongs to._

He brings Louis’ hands together and changes his grip, holding Louis’ wrists in one hand, pressing them into the wall harshly as he reaches down and unfastens Louis’ jeans. They’re stupidly tight. Harry loves the way they look but hates getting them off him. Louis tries to move away, huffing out a breath when he realizes he can’t.

It’s all part of the act, though. A little game they play only with each other. Here, in the privacy of their home away from prying eyes.

Harry had wanted to drag him out of the club as soon as he’d arrived, bring him home and defile him, but that would’ve been giving in, and Harry doesn’t give in, not when it comes to Louis. Instead, he’d made his way up to the first-floor balcony, making sure to wade through the mass of bodies on the dance floor so Louis knew he was there, ready to watch his little show.

He’d settled himself at a table on the balcony with a perfect view of the floor. Pumping music shaking the foundations and strobe lighting fanning out over the sea of men moving as one, with Louis at the centre of it all. Those fortunate enough to get close to him were held in his spell. Grinding. Swaying. Hands everywhere.

Louis hadn't looked up to the balcony once. Not that he needed to. He moved like a dancer following an artfully choreographed routine, never allowing anyone to get too close for too long, keeping them wanting more, swatting playfully at curious hands, spinning from one body to the next. A caress here, a swivel of his hips there, flicking his fringe with his dainty fingers.

Harry had waited, patiently, letting the environment surround him, but not consume him. The waiter was trying to ply him with alcohol, but for what he had planned for Louis, he needed to remain sober.

He shoves his hand inside Louis jeans and pulls out his throbbing cock, just letting it stand there in the air, no contact, no attention. 

There are no boxers or briefs to deal with, of course. Louis always complains they ruin the line of his bum and legs through whatever pants he’s wearing. Harry begs to differ. Nothing could ruin that arse. Instead, he finds a red lace thong. Delicate and damp from his oozing cock and it’s so painfully, perfectly, Louis. He wonders how many of the men got to see glimpses of it while Louis was writhing on the dance floor. It makes something burn inside of him. Something akin to jealousy simmering like lava ready to burst out of him.

Harry yanks the front of Louis’ shirt up over his head, tucking it behind at the nape of his neck. It forces Louis’ head forwards against his will and puts his torso fully on display. It’s a nice view and Harry drinks it in for a moment. He lets his eyes travel down from his mouth, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, draining the blood, taking his time to appreciate his bare chest, pebbled nipples, and naked expanse of skin over his stomach and down to his leaking cock. He’s so fucking beautiful and he’s all Harry’s to devour however he sees fit.

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry's chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

Harry leans back and spins Louis around, pushing him up and into the wall as he kicks his legs together. Louis lets out a soft _oomph_ but otherwise remains silent, head turned to the side and cheek pressed against the smooth surface, panting, waiting. There may not be any words passing between them, but there doesn’t need to be. Harry knows exactly what Louis wants. 

He uses the hand not gripping Louis’ wrists to drag down his jeans, stepping on them when he can’t reach any further. Louis has his bare bum angled out, trying to entice Harry, as if Harry needs any more encouragement. The red lace thong is sitting high on the crest of his arse, begging Harry to touch it, snap it. He digs his forefinger between the fine strip of material and Louis' soft skin, running his finger under it, pulling it away from his crack before holding it in mid-air. He pauses for a beat, and then another. Louis squirms and lets out little huffed grumbles. It would be adorable under most circumstances but this isn’t about cutesy niceties.

He pulls it back a bit further and then lets it go. The snap sounds out in the hallway, bouncing off the walls before it’s consumed by Louis’ long moan. It’s sure to have left a mark raising up on his smooth skin. Louis sways forward into the wall and pushes his arse back out again, hinting at his desire for more. But Harry isn’t ready to give him anything he asks for just yet. 

The inclination to take care of his boy and give him everything he wants is always humming under the surface. Sometimes overwhelmingly strong. Harry has learned to control it though, to keep it in check, because what Louis asks for and what he really wants are two very different things.

Harry runs a finger down the thin strip of material between his cheeks and Louis stomps his heel back on Harry’s toe, thankfully still encased in his leather boot. Harry winds back and lands a full-force slap to Louis’ arse, the flesh jiggling deliciously in the aftermath. Harry doesn’t miss the grin that curls the corner of his mouth. _Cheeky shit._

Harry grips the thong again, this time gathering up the material into his fist and pulling up. Louis gasps and goes with the movement, rising up onto his tiptoes to try and relieve the strain. It would be hurting, burning his sensitive skin, not too much, just enough. Harry eases off and Louis relaxes just as Harry pulls it up again, higher and harsher this time. Louis pushes his arse out but Harry has his number and shoves his knee into the back of Louis’, unbalancing him. He hears the stitching give way as Louis slumps down, and that’s a damn shame, but Harry will buy him another one, he’ll buy him as many as he bloody wants. Anything for his boy.

“ _Nrrrghh_ ,” Louis moans out, pulling at Harry’s hold on his wrists to no avail. Harry plays with the thong, up and down, dangling Louis like a puppet, hips being moved back and forth at Harry’s whim.

Harry knows that the material is cutting into his scrotum, spreading his tight little balls apart, his rim would be getting a workover, his taint as well and probably the base of his cock too. Louis whines and groans, clearly enjoying every second of it. _Time for a change._

Harry lets it go, the stretched material falling over Louis’ cheeks, the elastic ruined and no longer holding the garment's shape. He pulls back and flips Louis around, catching a glimpse of how debauched and eager for it he already is. Harry leans down and picks Louis up, hoisting him over his shoulder as Louis lets out an indignant squawk.

He strides toward the bedroom, tugging off Louis’ shoes and pulling his jeans over his ankles, letting them fall to the floor and littering a path down the hallway. 

The bedroom door is open, lamp on and a selection of their favourite toys and restraints laid out on the ottoman at the end of the bed, all just as Harry had left it before he went out.

Louis had sent a text while Harry was still at work, announcing that he was at Blake’s place getting ready to out clubbing. Harry has been putting in long shifts at the bar for the last few weeks and he knew that Louis was getting antsy without their usual playtime. Harry had actually planned to spend the weekend locked away with his boy; cooking for him, fucking him, playing, maybe a picnic if the weather was nice enough. But Louis, being the impatient brat he was, had beat him to the punch. The text hadn’t said where he was going because that would’ve spoiled Louis’ fun—the thrill of the chase being a key part of his plan—but it wasn’t hard to find him. Louis had a few favourite haunts for nights like these, thumping music and a plethora of men to ogle and pay him the attention he wanted were the only ingredients he needed. The Den was one such place, and the third on his search list. The cover was hefty but neither of them drinks when they’re playing, so it evened out. 

Harry had watched Louis dance for almost an hour, waiting it out until he could sense Louis getting frustrated. Then he’d waited a little longer; punishment for making Harry trek all over the fucking city looking for him. 

Harry throws him on the bed and Louis bounces in place, not making any attempt to move away. He cranes his neck to get a glimpse at the ottoman so he can anticipate what Harry has planned for him even though he knows that’s not allowed.

“Ten,” Harry says curtly and Louis groans and slumps back into the bed. He knows very well what that means. Ten spanks earned without even addressing what’s transpired this evening. 

Harry toes off his boots and kicks them away. Dropping his jeans and pulling off his socks and shirt, leaving on his tight, black briefs. He picks up his chest harness and puts it on, the leather, silver rings and buckles cool on his heated skin.

Louis watches him get dressed, bottom lip bitten between his teeth and eyes roaming Harry’s body. Harry allows him to drink his fill, enjoying the way the outfit, and Louis’ attention, settle him into his role. 

They don’t consider themselves in the scene, as such, and it’s not a lifestyle for them. But it was evident from early on in their relationship that they both had needs that couldn’t be satisfied through a regular sex life. They’d initially tested the waters, toys and basic restraints mostly, a bit of spanking here and there, before deciding to take it further and do the necessary research to equip themselves properly and do it safely.

Things had escalated from there. It isn’t a constant thing for them, both still enjoying more traditional sexual activities, but it’s become something that they need to do from time to time. It’s as though it builds, unconsciously at first, an itch under the skin that they can’t scratch, and then it’s there, banging on the door to be let loose.

“Take your shirt off and roll over, face down,” Harry instructs, waiting until Louis is in position before picking up Louis’ collar from the ottoman. He’s got a few; a pink one with a gold ring, a red one with a matching ball gag, and this one, black with silver chains hanging down and nipple clamps at the ends. It’s Louis’ favourite and perfect for what Harry has planned.

He hasn’t bothered with too much set up. Tonight has already involved hours of foreplay as they had engaged in a game of club-and-go-seek across the city, all building to this moment, so Harry’s going to keep it simple.

He lets his gaze wander over Louis' body, hands tucked under his chest, muscles twitching periodically in anticipation of what’s to come, feet flexed and toes digging into the covers. The ruined thong drapes down on one side, across the line where his thigh meets his arse, but still wedged deliciously in his crack.

Harry walks to the edge of the bed, kneeing up beside Louis and leaning forward, sliding the collar between his neck and the bedsheets. Louis tenses, sucking in a sharp breath before relaxing as Harry tightens the buckle, checking the tension with a finger under the leather and then securing it in place. The chains and nipple clamps are still on the ottoman, attachments for later when Harry is ready but Louis can likely tell which one it is just from the feel of it on his skin. 

Harry considers his next series of moves. Louis had been a proper brat tonight, purposefully riling Harry up on the dance floor, so he has to pay for that. Harry had thought long and hard about it as he’d watched him at The Den.

Louis had wheeled out his greatest hits, putting on an award-worthy display for his audience, but really it was all for Harry’s benefit. They both know how to push each other but as much as Harry might get jealous and possessive, that pales in comparison to how worked up Louis can get. 

Absolutely no one is allowed to come near Harry and anyone that does is met with the equivalent of rabid chihuahua; bared teeth, hissed breaths, frenzied eyes, and the withering gaze of a man who shouldn’t be crossed. Harry’s just glad he’s never been on the receiving end.

Harry likes to think he has some finesse, an element of subtlety even, but he was particularly frustrated tonight so he dipped into the deep vein of Louis’ jealous streak and used it to his advantage.

He’d spotted his target from the balcony, just on the outer edge of Louis’ worshipping throng of testosterone manifested. About Louis’ height and build, perhaps with even more curves, sandy brown hair left shaggy across his forehead. His red pants and striped blue and white top screamed twink but he wasn’t gifted with Louis’ seductive moves nor the ability to keep the attention of more than one suitor at a time. Honestly, Louis should offer lessons. Red Pants had managed to attract a few guys, one after the other while Harry observed from his vantage point, but each of them would quickly be pulled into Louis’ orbit. 

After watching yet another man slip through his fingers, Harry decided this was his guy; an unwitting pawn in their game who would be used and then cast aside once Harry had achieved his goal.

He’d made his way down to the floor, carving a path through the crowd that was moving as one to the heavy beat of the hypnotic techno soundtrack. His mark had just lost another man to Louis’ pull and Harry came up behind him, slotting against his back and molding his body to his curves. Harry had gripped his hips, grinding to the beat of the music, and bringing him flush with his groin. He smelled of desperation; cheap cologne mixed with sweat. It wasn’t entirely unappealing, given the environment, and he’d probably have no trouble pulling later in the night; on his knees in the bathroom sucking some guy’s dick the most likely outcome. _I’m Harry, what’s your name gorgeous_ he’d purred into the man’s ear, lips resting on the outer shell as he’d ground into his arse. _Jesse,_ he’d shouted over the pounding bass, jutting his hips back, demonstrating his interest to his new dance partner, and wasn’t that just the twinkiest of names. Harry had simply smiled into his neck and edged them forward, deeper into the sea of Louis’ admirers.

The thing about Louis is that he likes the chase, or rather, he likes being chased. He likes to feel wanted, needed. Likes to have that heady rush when he senses the gotta-have-you-right-now urgency of his prey. But if it’s too easy, too predictable, he doesn’t get the same satisfaction. He prefers to toy with people, make them mindless with desire before discarding them with nothing but the memory of what they almost had. Most of all though, he likes to be bad so he can be good. And he’s always good for Harry. Eventually.

Harry returns his attention to the gorgeous boy laid out on their bed, trailing a fingertip down Louis’ spine to the crest of his arse, goose pimples left in his wake. Louis’ skin is hot to the touch and clammy with sweat. Harry wants to lick him all over, removing the evidence of their night out and clean off every trace of those other men and make him his again, only his.

Louis rocks down into the bed and the action is met with a swift, sharp slap to his cheek, the print of Harry’s hand blooming on his soft porcelain skin. He admires it for a moment before landing another two slaps in the same spot.

“Nrrrghhh…” Louis groans and clenches, pushing into the covers once again even though he knows he’s not allowed. So he’s decided to be bad. Not that it comes as any great shock. Harry might’ve formed a plan of his own once he knew Louis was going clubbing, but clearly Louis had hatched his own plot for the evening well before that.

When Harry had pushed Jesse forward into the crowd, Louis had spun around and spotted him, a small, smug smile appearing briefly on his lips until he realised Harry wasn’t alone. Clearly, this hadn’t been a predicated eventuality in Louis’ mind. Harry earned no more than a cursory glance from Louis, letting his eyes rest briefly on the boy Harry was grinding up against before he turned back around but not without letting his carefully crafted facade slip for a fraction of a second. It was barely a twitch of his facial muscles, but Harry caught it nonetheless. 

Harry had continued to edge toward the middle of the dance floor, strobe lighting flashing and making the sea of bodies seem to flicker like an old movie at the end of its reel. Jesse, for his part, really got into it; arms raised over his head and fingers threaded at the nape of Harry’s neck. But once Louis was closer, Harry became irritated with the boy plastered against his front; curves all wrong, movements jerky and out of time with the music, overly gelled hair sticking to Harry’s cheek. The sight of Louis holding court and being touched by so many strange hands got his hackles up too. Not that he ever had to worry about Louis’ fidelity, they were it for each other; more than enough and even teetering on the brink of too much at times. No. That wasn’t a real concern, but Harry’s own jealous streak had felt more like a raging torrent in the circumstances and he had trouble tamping it down.

He had sensed Louis watching him out of the corner of his eye and it was truly amazing how he was able to spin so many plates at once, toying with at least eight admirers as well as keeping track of Harry and Jesse. When they’d made it to just outside the ring of muscled men Louis shifted so he was facing them, arms slung around some gym-junkie’s neck, head thrown back so their crotches were rubbing against each other. Harry had watched the walking steroid advertisement slide his hands down over Louis’ arse and no, that was not okay. The beat dropped and he shoved Jesse up against the man taking liberties with Harry’s property, jostling him and making Louis lower his head, eyes narrowing as he looked over the stupid prick’s shoulder at Harry. The man looked back at Harry and scowled: Harry saw red. 

As though the entire routine had been perfectly choreographed, Louis had gripped the man’s shoulders and spun him around as Harry unhooked Jesse’s arms from his neck and slung them around the man’s instead. Harry had reached forward and grabbed Louis by the wrist, hauling him off the dance floor and out into the night.

By the time they pulled up in the taxi outside their flat, the air between them was charged and ready to ignite with a single spark. Harry had dragged Louis up the stairs, pushed him through their front door and up against the hallway wall. And that, as they say, was that.

Harry takes hold of Louis’ ankles and drags him down to the end of the bed, gripping his hips and pulling him off the covers, bum in the air so he can’t get any more friction. Louis’ face is squished awkwardly, turned to the side so he can watch Harry, eyes half-lidded and mouth parted, his tongue peeking out between his lips. But if Louis knows what’s coming then that spoils the fun. Harry prefers the element of surprise. He reaches over to the ottoman and retrieves the quilted, silk mask, slipping it over Louis’ head and situating it so he’s blind to Harry’s actions. Louis loves being blindfolded. He says it helps to get him out of his head and heightens his other senses. Harry thinks it looks beautiful, sitting high on his glorious cheekbones, little rosebud nose peeking out and framing his perfect, sinful mouth. 

Immobility is another thing for Louis, for them both, really. The trust they’ve built between each other over the years allows them to push the boundaries, sure in the knowledge that they’re safe to indulge in their fantasies without fear. Louis letting Harry take control of delivering his pleasure is probably Harry’s biggest turn on. He feels powerful, but not in a domineering way, for him it’s more about showing his love for Louis by giving him what he wants and needs. Caring for him during and after. It’s Louis’ greatest gift and one Harry cherishes.

Harry leans over and picks up the padded leather cuffs from amongst the rest of the items he’d laid out. “Hands behind your back,” he instructs and Louis complies willingly, resting them at the base of his spine. Harry slides one, and the other, over his hands and secures the buckles at his wrists, clipping them together with the gold chain. He pulls them taut, Louis’ arms straining, the caramel coloured skin between his shoulder blades folding in on itself like warm toffee. 

Harry holds the tension for a few beats then pulls harder, just that little extra bit that earns a gasp from Louis’ lips followed by a soft moan as Harry eases off and lets him relax. It’ll be the last time he gets to relax for a while. 

The silver chain of the nipple clamps catches the lamplight and draws Harry’s attention. He grabs it and moves around to the side of the bed, reaching under Louis’ torso where he’s raised up, and attaching it to the ring of his collar. He threads the two ends of the chain up and over Louis’ shoulders and down under his armpits. This way, whenever Louis pulls on his restraints, the movement will tug on the clamps, and given what Harry has planned, he'll definitely be pulling on them.

Louis sways on his knees in anticipation. In Harry’s humble opinion, Louis has the most beautiful nipples he’s ever seen on anyone, ever. Perfectly proportioned, darkened skin on the areolas, and the way they pucker when he’s aroused makes it hard for Harry not to latch his mouth onto them at every opportunity. But that’s not the plan for tonight. Tonight they’re going to end up red-raw and will be sore for days. He can already imagine being able to graze his fingertips over them in the morning, with Louis trying to swat him away but secretly wanting the exact opposite. His clothing with rub and catch on them, he’ll wince and hiss as he goes about mundane tasks around the flat, and Harry will relish the chance to get him hot and bothered with an effortless ease. 

That’s the thing with their playtime, there are always things lingering in the aftermath that can trigger the memories and launch them back into their roles; feeding off each other like symbiotic creatures. 

For Louis it’s physical; bruises and marks, scratches and strained muscles. But for Harry it’s different. It’s more of a response to Louis’ reactions; a hitch of breath when Louis walks or sits down, the way he’ll rub at his wrists absentmindedly if he’s been restrained, the changing colours of the marks Harry has left on his skin.

Harry strokes down between Louis’ pecs, the light dusting of hair always so alluring. Louis knows what’s coming next which isn’t ideal, but sometimes, no matter how much Harry tries to keep him guessing, there’s no hiding what’s about to happen. He feels for one of the clamps hanging down beside Louis’ rib cage, using it to trace around his right nipple, already standing to attention in eagerness. Harry presses the ends together to release the jaws of the clamp, attaching it but not letting him get the full sensation just yet. Louis whines high in his throat in frustration, the chain between his cuffs clinking as he strains against it. 

“You were so bad tonight,” Harry says and Louis sucks in a lungful air at the first time he’s addressing what has transpired. Harry’s been quiet, as he always is, distancing himself, waiting it out until the time is right. It’s part of the role he plays and an element that never fails to heighten the mood in the early stages before he really lets loose. “Making me hunt you down all over town.”

Louis groans as Harry releases his grip and the jaws of the clamp attach fully to Louis’ nipple. “Wasn’t bad,” he says on a long exhale. “You’re just a shit hunter.”

Harry smiles to himself. There’s always a moment when Louis reveals the role he’s chosen for the session and tonight he’s chosen to be a brat. Not that Harry was in much doubt after his behaviour at the club, but now he’s sealed his fate.

Harry slides his fingers down the clamp to where it’s pinching Louis’ nipple and applies a hint of extra pressure. Louis hisses and pulls on his restraints, harder this time causing the clamp to drag on its chain. “ _Fuck_.”

“No. Bad boys don’t get my cock. You're gonna have to earn it, earn your forgiveness,” Harry says, low and biting. 

Louis whines again but there’s a sense of resignation in his tone. He knows it’s going to be a long night.

Harry reaches under Louis and attaches the second clamp, twisting it around as Louis hiccups out a breath. Harry shifts back to the end of the bed, Louis’ feet hanging over the edge, knees digging into the mattress and takes a mental picture of the scene before him. The way Louis’ thighs are trembling already even though they’ve barely begun, his fingers threaded together to ease the strain on his wrists, face pushed into the covers, and Harry’s handprint on his arse. _God_ , he loves him so much. Sometimes he can’t fathom what he did to deserve such a gift from the heavens.

Harry tucks his fingers under the red strip of material, and slides the thong down, tapping Louis’ thighs so he shifts on the bed, lifting his knees in turn. He allows himself a moment to feel how wet it is, how turned on Louis is, and even though Harry can’t see it in the dim light, he knows he must be painfully hard and dripping by now.

He sets it down and picks up the spreader bar. It’s a relatively new addition to their toolkit but a very versatile one. Louis has a tendency to get lost in the scene and his strong thighs aren’t always as cooperative as Harry would like. When Harry eats him out Louis very nearly crushes his skull, so this had been a wise, and almost necessary, purchase. This particular one had been bought as part of a set, along with the cuffs currently around Louis’ wrists, and has the added advantage of being able to attach them together as a single unit if desired.

Harry brushes the inside of Louis’ thighs. “Oh shit, _yeah_ ,” Louis groans out, already anticipating Harry’s next move. He shifts his weight to the left and moves his right knee over before repeating the process on the other side, making space for the bar. Harry slots it between his spread legs and attaches the cuffs around the tops of his calves. They don’t need to be tight to do their job and Harry prefers to leave them fairly loose to give Louis the sense of free movement without him actually having it; the little huffs and whines of frustration as a result acting as a delectable treat for Harry.

Harry likes to take things deliberately slow and he knows that it feels even more drawn out for Louis, his sensory deprivation limiting his ability to track the progress of time. He admires the view, trailing a finger down from Louis’ crack and over his hole to his balls, earning a shudder in response, followed by a hiss as Louis pulls on his nipple clamps. It’s so dry and tight right now, but not for much longer. Soon it will be wet with lube, reddened from a bit of paddling and stuffed full of Harry's favourite toy, a pink, vibrating, remote-controlled butt plug. 

Harry always plans their impact play well in advance and within the context of the scene, weighing up how many hits Louis thinks he can handle with how many Harry knows he actually can without things going too far. In the heat of the moment, Louis always wants more, often begging and pleading for set after set, so it’s Harry’s job to know when enough is enough. There’s a sweet spot when Louis is drifty and light but still with it when the strikes will cause welts and a burning sensation on his skin but they’ll also fade without leaving bruises. Louis’ ability to judge his own limits becomes hazy when he’s riding his high but Harry always has a way to distract him, to change up what they’re doing and move onto the next thing.

Louis arches his back slightly, trying to entice Harry to touch him again and that’s the perfect cue to start.

Harry positions himself just to the side of Louis' left foot so he can use his right hand to start. The first few sets need to be hard to get Louis to the right place before Harry introduces the paddle, and his right arm is his strongest.

“Can’t believe you made me come and find you at that club,” he says as he rubs gentle circles into Louis left cheek with his other hand. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

He squeezes and pinches the skin, watching as it pinks up under his ministrations. Louis isn’t responding verbally, but Harry doesn’t really expect him to; just little puffs of air and soft mewls in reply. The length of time he’s been restrained and the effect of the nipple clamps would have started to put him under, not completely, but enough that he feels spacey and a bit out of his body.

“Letting all those men touch you. Putting their hands on you. And you loved it didn’t you,” he states firmly and Louis flinches, nails digging into the backs of his hands.

Harry pulls his hand away just as he brings his other one down with a harsh slap. Louis’ whole body tenses as he’s bunted forward, gasping and sucking in a lungful of air.

Harry doesn’t get him to count off when they play like this, Louis has said it takes him away from the moment and he prefers to let Harry control it as he sees fit based on how Louis is reacting and what else he has planned. It’s added pressure and responsibility on Harry’s shoulders but in truth, he’s far more comfortable with it this way too.

Harry waits until Louis starts to relax again, the tension ebbing out of his muscles, picking his moment and timing it perfectly for just before Louis settles. He lands a series of slaps to the same cheek, each one slightly harder than the last as he gets his eye in, feeling the burn on his palm from the contact. He digs his fingers in, massaging the skin roughly.

Louis’ hands separate, pulling on the restraints as a full-body shiver rolls through him. It’s one of the telltale signs Harry watches for. The slaps are already pushing Louis further into his head than Harry had anticipated so he’ll need to adjust his plan. He switches to the other cheek, ten slaps this time, but not as hard, just evening things out and maintaining the high Louis is already feeling.

“All those sweaty men, grinding on you, breathing on you, watching you, thinking they had a fucking chance,” Harry spits out as he lands two double-handers on his cheeks.

“Wanted me,” Louis says, words slurred, still trying to be defiant even though his resolve is slipping.

“Perhaps. But they don’t get to have you, do they? No, they don’t. Who do you belong to?”

Louis doesn’t answer, just turns his head over to face the other way. It’s another sign. His face gets hot when he’s been positioned like this for a while, blood concentrating its flow to his cheeks. Harry reaches down and grips onto the chain between his cuffs, sliding the fingers of his other hand under the collar around his neck. He yanks him upright and onto his knees, leaning his weight back against Harry’s chest, arse cheeks spreading a warmth as they press into Harry’s thighs. 

Louis gasps for breath as his airway is briefly constricted by the collar. “ _Fuck_ , oh god,” he chokes out. The pull of the chain on the nipple clamps would be painful in this position and the suddenness of the move after being still for so long should be enough to take him down a notch and bring him back to more lucid territory. 

“Answer me. Who do you belong to?” Harry demands, as Louis trembles, breath coming out in short, sharp puffs as he tries to work through the pain.

“Y-you. Only you,” he stutters.

“That’s right. You’re mine,” Harry growls out. He takes an opportunity to look over Louis’ shoulder and check his state of arousal. His cock is standing away from his body, hard and angry, the head a reddish-purple with a bead of precome oozing out of the slit. The clamps are strained, pulling the buds almost flat towards his armpits, the tips darkened and looking sore already.

Louis’ fingers graze Harry’s cock through his briefs as he lets out a small whimper. Harry jolts his hips backward and Louis whines in response. It’s a cheeky move and one Louis is well aware will earn him a reprimand but it reassures Harry that Louis is still very much present.

“No. Bad boys don’t get to touch,” Harry scolds and pushes Louis back down face-first onto the bed, careful to bend him over into the same position but with his head turned to the other side. “What happens to bad boys?”

Louis hips sway as he settles back into the covers. “Punished,” he murmurs, barely audible, the word curling on his tongue.

“What was that?”

“Punished,” Louis says, louder this time.

“That’s right.”

Harry lets Louis wait, leaves him hanging in the moment, time for the anticipation to build. In the aftermath it might be more physical for Louis and mental for Harry, but during the sessions it’s very much both for each of them.

Harry takes the pause to observe him, focus never wavering, watching for every tense and release of Louis’ muscles, every tremble, every clench of his hole, the twitch of his toes, the sweat gathering at his temples; every single action, or lack thereof, communicating to Harry how he is.

He knows Louis’ body almost as well as he knows his own; every inch of skin, every freckle and scar, every ticklish spot and erogenous zone. Harry has it all mapped out in his mind, years of exploration leaving not a single millimetre uncharted. 

Harry had laid out two different paddles earlier; a black leather one, simple and fairly narrow, and the other with a larger surface area. He chooses the thinner option, wanting to be able to more accurately strike his hole and balls. The impact over those areas doesn’t require anywhere near the force Harry employs for his cheeks, even a slight tap is enough to have the desired effect, but precision is key.

It’s a fairly new addition to their list of impact play options and they’re still on a learning curve. When Louis had asked for it a few months back Harry had been a little surprised, considering it more hardcore than their usual, fairly vanilla catalogue. But Harry will never deny his boy anything so he’d done the research and they’d gradually introduced it into the mix.

He picks up the paddle, sliding it over his palm and then brings it down onto his hand with a sharp slap. Louis’ breath hitches when he hears the familiar sound.

He steps up behind Louis and drags the tip down his spine and over his hole, circling his cheeks and pressing it into his taint before rubbing it against his balls, careful to avoid touching the base of his cock.

“ _Nrrrghh…_ ” Louis groans out, hands and feet flexing, puckered rim tensing. 

Harry taps his inner thighs, back and forth, no set rhythm to ensure he keeps him guessing. He lands the first strike on his left cheek, followed quickly by five on the right and then three on his left. A quick, gentle tap to his ball sack and then a press of the tip into his hole which he holds for a few beats.

Louis jerks and moans, every muscle drawn up and taut. The next set he alternates between his inner thighs and cheeks, the number isn’t relevant, but his brain still unconsciously keeps track of the count. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two...

He rubs the paddle over the reddened welts littering his body, appreciating the beautiful bloom of colour as the blood rushes to the surface.

“How many times did you let them touch you?” Harry asks when he pauses, Louis’ shoulders slumping into the bed like his strings have been cut. “How many of them? How many hands? How many dicks were shoved up against you?”

Louis whimpers, turning his face to bury his nose in the covers. Harry’s been waiting for this, for him to acknowledge what happened at The Den. Under normal circumstances, Louis would deck anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way, but when he’s ramping up to a session he lets his inhibitions go as he slots into his role. It’s not that he regrets his behaviour, as such, it’s all part of the game, but in a way, he needs to work through it too. Harry’s learned that by addressing it now, as part of their playtime, Louis is able to cleanse himself of it and absolve any lingering feelings of guilt.

Harry changes his angle and strikes softer blows just beside his hole, one side then the other, changing up the speed and frequency before holding it over his rim and pinching the end of the paddle. He draws it back, bending the thick leather and then lets it go, the sharp sound quickly overtaken by a muffled cry from Louis' mouth. He repeats the set another two times knowing that Louis will crack soon enough. At the end of the third set Louis turns his head and inhales sharply.

“Too many men,” he gasps out in response to Harry’s previous questioning. “So many. H-hands everywhere. Drowning. Couldn't breathe,” Louis sobs.

And there it is. Release. Harry drops the paddle, kneading Louis’ cheeks with both hands and leaning forward, kissing around his hole and licking a stripe from his balls to the top of his crack.

“That’s right,” Harry soothes, voice deep and gravely, vibrations transferring from his lips to Louis’ skin. “So many. But you’re always mine. Even in that sea of hungry men, no one can have you but me.”

Louis’ whole body shudders, hiccuping out his breaths at Harry’s reassuring words, rib cage heaving as he lets himself sink further. Harry reaches under his torso and removes the nipple clamps, a hiss falling from Louis’ lips. They’ve served their purpose and he wants Louis to be free of the restrictions for what he has planned next.

Louis arches his back, the throbbing of his abused nipples likely overwhelming before he settles with a sigh and slides his hands further up his back, elbows bending as he relieves the built-up tension in his shoulders. Harry peppers kisses over his heated skin, lapping at his hole and getting him wet with his saliva. He reaches over blindly for the lube, slicking up his fingers with practised ease. He slides in the first finger and it’s met with little resistance. Louis might have prepped himself before he went out or it could just be the result of how worked up he is, it’s hard to tell and matters little at this point.

Harry noses down Louis’ taint and sucks one of his balls into his mouth, rolling it around and circling it with his tongue as he adds a second finger. Louis clenches reflexively at the intrusion but relaxes quickly, hips undulating as he tilts his pelvis to draw Harry in deeper.

Harry scissors his fingers, stretching Louis out and getting him ready for the next phase. He’d replaced the batteries in the vibrating butt plug in preparation before he went out to track Louis down, never wanting to risk their session being interrupted. Harry loves the plug and being able to control it from a distance is equal parts devious and practical. 

Harry withdraws his fingers licking around his rim and dipping the tip of his tongue inside, the muscle clamping down hard before Harry pulls back. He squeezes more lube over his hole, pushing some inside to ensure he’s ready for the plug. He reaches over and grabs the bright pink toy, pressing the yellow button in the base to power it on in readiness which will glow brightly when the vibrations are enabled. When they’d selected it online Harry had joked that it was just a way of reaffirming that the sun did, in fact, shine out of Louis’ arse. Louis had rolled his eyes, swatted him in the chest, and then ridden Harry into oblivion on the couch. 

He lathers it in more lube and presses the tip to Louis’ rim causing him to moan wantonly when he realises what it is. Harry takes it slow, the glide aided by the slick, but it still requires some effort to get the largest part to slip past the ring of muscle.

“Oh _god_ , yeah,” Louis gasps as Harry gives it a final push, watching as the main body of the plug slides in, sucked the rest of the way by Louis’ hungry hole before lodging it deep inside with the stopper resting snuggly at his opening. 

Harry lets Louis get used to the feel of it as he assesses his state. His thighs are twitching, one shoulder dropped further than the other as he tries to stretch his tense muscles, the roll of his ankle catching Harry’s attention out of the corner of his eye. The next phase is going to be intense and long and he’ll likely be unable to stay in this position for the duration so it’s time for a change.

Harry steps up on the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight, feet either side of Louis’ hips as he unhooks the chains between his wrist cuffs, Louis’ hands falling to his sides. Harry flips him over, which is mildly awkward with the spreader bar still in place, but he manages it without too much trouble even though Louis is a deadweight at this point. He lifts Louis’ arms above his head, attaching each wrist to the hooks on the headboard. They were an ingenious addition a year or so ago, no more having to use ties to attach Louis’ hands and also allowing Harry to release him one-handed which proves particularly useful at the end of the scenes when Louis is still overwhelmed and needs to curl into a ball against Harry’s body.

Harry gets down on all-fours, keeping their bodies separated. He bends down and licks over one of his nipples, then the other. Louis writhes beneath him, testing his range of movement with his new position. Harry blows cool air over his wet nipples and Louis hisses out a breath.

He moves up to hover over his face and Louis parts his lips, tongue peeking out and running along his bottom lip like he’s trying to taste Harry’s breath. He pulls on his restraints, lifting his upper body off the bed as Harry’s moves in tandem, straightening up so he’s just out of reach. Louis whines and cranes his head as far forward as he can, the tendons in his neck and shoulders standing out like the roots of an ancient tree. Harry decides to let him have a small reward, a brief contact before they plunge into the rest of the scene. He places his hand in the middle of Louis’ chest and pushes him down earning a frustrated whine and a yank on the restraints in return. 

He noses at Louis’ jaw and he turns into the touch before Harry pulls back again and licks over the seam of Louis’ lips. Louis opens up immediately and lurches forward, capturing Harry’s lips in his own, whining as he tries to devour him whole.

Harry lets him have his fill and then retreats, leaving him wanting more as he slides off the bed. He picks up the remote for the butt plug from the ottoman and walks to the other side of the room, sitting down in the armchair and crossing one leg over the other relaxing back to enjoy the view.

Louis squirms, hands clasping and unclasping, hips bucking into the air trying to find friction for his neglected cock but there won’t be any of that for a while yet. Harry shifts in his seat, making enough noise to catch Louis’ attention and he turns his head toward the sound. Harry starts to hum a melody, low and soft, Louis settling down and body relaxing. He continues, the nondescript tune as he waits for the right moment. Louis starts to fidget, grinding his arse down into the bed, just little motions like he’s trying to do it on the sly, as if Harry isn’t watching his every move. Or maybe he does know and he’s trying to egg him on. Either way, it won’t change Harry’s plan.

He moves the pad of his thumb over the familiar controls, moving past the first four settings and stopping at the fifth. He always determines his starting point based on what the scene has involved thus far. If Louis’ prostate has had attention then he opts for a setting that’s low and pulsating. If he’s already too close to the edge, he’ll go with a low constant buzz just to keep him there a while longer. Tonight though, he’s had no stimulation so he’ll be able to take a higher setting to start; a medium level buzz with no pulse action.

Louis lifts his knees and drags his feet up the bed, still spread wide by the bar, and that's Harry's cue. He smirks to himself and presses the button.

“Fuck!” Louis screams, slamming his legs down flat onto the mattress as his back arches off the bed, pulling the restraints so hard the headboard comes away from the wall. Harry knows exactly how it feels, always ensuring he tests out all their toys before using them on Louis. This setting is relentless, merciless, and no amount of wriggling can escape it. With the plug nestled deep inside and secured with the stopper it’s not moving until Harry takes it out. “Ohmygod _ohmygod_ holy hell!”

Louis slumps back into the bed, legs jerking uncontrollably, the chains of the ankle cuffs clinking against the metal bar. His mouth hangs agape, breath held as Harry counts out five more seconds and then changes the setting to number three. Louis has a brief moment of reprieve where he sucks in a lungful of air before the first pulse hits him. His whole body jolts like he’s been shocked. A beat passes and then another two pulses surge into his prostate, followed by a beat and then three pulses, a beat and then a constant buzz for five seconds, stronger than on the previous setting, before repeating the pattern again. This one is actually Harry’s personal favourite and he knows Louis likes it too, it allows just enough of a respite to hold onto the edge without falling over it too quickly.

Louis starts to groan, muscles twitching, biceps held taut, veins in his neck protruding and stomach concaving as he breathes heavily. Harry can see that he’s struggling to stave off his orgasm already, gritting his teeth and twisting his hips trying to force his knees together. Harry wants to drag it out a bit more before he lets him come for the first time though so he drops the setting to number two which allows for more time between pulses and a shorter buzz at the end of the cycle.

Of course, even though Harry is reading his every move, he isn’t inside Louis’ body and he can’t truly know what’s going on. If it does get too much for him Louis knows all he has to do is word-out and Harry will stop. _Froggy_. It’s ridiculous, and a jibe at Harry. Louis takes great joy in teasing him because he maintains he has a particular smile that makes him look like a frog, which is exactly why he chose it. Always the joker. Always prodding. Always pushing Harry’s buttons.

He’s only ever used it once. Two hours of edging, interspersed with multiple sets of paddles, a jewel-topped butt plug nestled deep inside his hole, and legs firmly secured wide open with a spreader bar. Interestingly, it was the relentless dirty-talk spewing from Harry’s mouth that had been too much in the end. Unable to hold back his orgasm until Harry had permitted him to come, he’d worded-out seconds before he came.

Louis was furious with himself for days, stomping around the flat slamming doors and generally being a petulant asshole. But if Louis was annoyed with himself, then Harry was practically inconsolable. Louis’ well being and pleasure when they play is his responsibility and his alone. He’d missed the signs or not read them correctly and Louis had been forced to opt-out of the scene. As far as Harry was concerned it was unforgivable. He ran it over and over again in his mind until the whole thing blurred into an indecipherable mess and wedged a ball of insecurity in his chest that he couldn’t shift. He worried that Louis wouldn’t feel safe enough to keep going, that he wouldn’t trust Harry enough to really let himself go. They each worked through it internally and then on the third day they sat down and talked it out together like proper adults, sharing what had happened from their own perspectives. 

The entire situation was a valuable learning experience for them both. So when Harry came out of the shower to find Louis sitting on the end of their bed wearing nothing but one of Harry’s silk ties and a smile, an array of carefully selected toys and restraints laid out around him, it was a relief and an acknowledgment that neither of them was perfect but that they were in it together. That’d been a good night.

Louis’ movements have calmed considerably so it’s time to up the intensity again and add in some verbal persuasion. They’re done with the role play portion of the evening and now it’s time to focus on them as a couple, just Louis and Harry, madly in love, giving each the pleasure only they can deliver. It’s always a carefully timed transition; too soon and Louis feels confused, still in the wrong headspace to process the change, too late and he can feel abandoned and unloved which can quickly spiral out of control. 

Harry gets up and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, just in reach of Louis so he can ground him with his touch and be ready to remove the restraints and blindfold when he comes. His first orgasm when they play is always overwhelming and in addition to the physical response, Louis becomes very emotional too, so it’s important that Harry is close enough to provide him the support he needs.

Louis turns his head toward him, feeling his presence as the bed dips under Harry’s weight.

“Look so good spread out like that, Lou. All mine to do whatever I want with, yeah?”

“Y-yours,” he rasps out, voice breaking beautifully.

Harry switches back up to the third setting and waits for him to adjust, more able to handle it with Harry by his side.

“Been so perfect for me. Such a good boy,” Harry says as he places his hand over Louis’ stomach. Louis keens at the praise and arches into Harry’s touch. When he’s like this he gets off on Harry’s words and tone almost as much as the stimulation to his body.

“Gonna let you come soon, baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah please,” Louis says, nodding furiously.

Harry changes the vibrations again, moving into the upper range to increase the sensations. Setting seven is intense, double pulses followed by a wave-like buzz through the whole plug and stopper ensuring that every nerve ending is titillated, from his rim, along his walls and to his prostate.

Louis groans and starts to tremble, hands balled into fists, toes curled, bottom lip bitten harshly between his teeth and whiting out the flesh. Harry can feel the buzzing through the bed and his hand where it’s laid over Louis’ belly button. Harry’s starting to harden up now, tenting in his briefs just by being in closer proximity to his gorgeous boy.

“And then after you’ve come, I’m gonna fuck you so good, so deep, get to all the places this plug can’t. Make you come again on my cock.”

Louis’ dick twitches, precome blurting out of the slit and onto his tummy just below Harry’s hand. Harry desperately wants to touch him, get his mouth on him, but not yet; soon though, so very soon. 

“Want you. Need you,” Louis whimpers mindlessly. He’s so close, hanging onto the edge by his fingernails, awaiting Harry’s command.

Harry eases the plug back to setting two in readiness for his next move, this one is a low range buzz with no pulses, just enough to maintain his current state without pushing too hard. The extra contact Louis is about to get needs to be balanced out otherwise it will become overwhelming.

Harry lifts his hand and brushes over Louis’ cock earning a high whine from the boy beneath him. It’s hot to the touch, skin stretched tight and crown glistening with the precome that’s been leaking out. He trails his hand down and cups Louis balls, tight against his body.

Harry leans down and licks the head of Louis’ cock, the salty taste causing his saliva glands to react and flood his mouth. Louis bucks up seeking more and Harry drops his jaw to take him down further, letting Louis set the pace and climb closer to his peak.

Putting his multitasking skills to good use, he reaches down—thankful for his long arms and Louis’ short legs—and starts to unbuckle the ankle cuffs. Louis doesn’t need them now, not when Harry is here with him. He makes quick work of them both and discards the spreader bar too as Louis continues to fuck up into his mouth. 

Harry can tell Louis is getting closer to the edge; movements chaotic and uncoordinated, jerky thrusts of his hips, trying to twist and shift the plug off his prostate to get some relief. But Harry’s in control, and he’ll let him come only when the time is right. 

He presses his forearm into Louis’ thigh, effectively immobilizing him, and sucks him down all the way into the back of his throat.

“Fuck, so good, so good,” Louis murmurs.

Harry hums around him in agreement, the buzzing from the plug and now his voice creating an all-encompassing sensation that Louis will be feeling right throughout his body. He swallows around him, relishing in these final moments before he lets him come. He’s been so good, so perfect, and Harry is momentarily overcome with pure love for his boy. No one else could ever come close.

The final setting for tonight is going to be number ten and it’s nothing short of mind blowing. Harry nearly passed out when he used it on himself, having fumbled the remote on setting nine and lost it in the bedsheets, he’d shot his load clear up to his chin and had to search around blindly for the controller before his insides melted. Not that they actually would have, of course, but his brain wasn’t exactly fully functional at the time, if it had been, he would've just reached under and pressed the damn button on the end of the plug to turn it off. He’d finally found the remote and shut it off and then laid there for a good few minutes trying to peel himself off the ceiling.

Harry eases back, needing his mouth free so he can talk him off and give him the final instruction to release and let his orgasm burst out of him. He lets Louis’ cock fall from his mouth and it slaps down onto his stomach, leaving traces of Harry’s saliva on his skin.

It’s time to get himself ready. He stands and spins around, grabbing the lube so it’s within reach and kneeing up onto the bed. He slots himself between Louis’ thighs, pushing them apart to make room and rakes his eyes over Louis’ body. His breath is sucked from his lungs as he takes in the gorgeous sight before him; flushed neck and cheeks, heaving chest, hair disheveled, hands fisted tightly, and sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead.

“So beautiful, Lou. My beautiful boy.”

“H-Haz. Can’t hold-“

“It’s alright, baby. Not long now. You’ve been so patient and so good,” Harry says and takes Louis’ cock in his hand. He strokes it gently but firmly, building a rhythm. “Can’t wait to see you come. Watch you fall apart. Getting what you want. What you need.”

Harry can feel Louis’ legs shaking where they’re pressed into his thighs and he knows he’s ready. He changes the setting on the controller for the last time; setting ten, the final level.

Louis’ reaction is instantaneous. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He cries out, launching off the bed as far as the restraints will permit, head thrown back, legs clamped around Harry’s thighs like a vice. Harry strips his cock with one hand, holding the remote in the other ready to shut it off.

“Come for me, baby.”

Those four simple words are like a release valve. Louis’ body shudders, breath held, muscles frozen and then with a final cry he starts to come, spurting over Harry’s hand as it flies over his cock. He shuts the plug off, dropping the controller to the bed and leans forward, unhooking the restraints and ripping off Louis’ blindfold as he slows the pace of his hand.

“Good, so good, coming, more, yeah…” Louis babbles nonsensically, shoving his fingers into his hair, tugging and scratching, eyes tightly closed as he rides out his orgasm.

Harry stops stroking his cock but keeps a firm grip just as Louis likes and he picks up the lube, squeezing a generous amount around the plug, twisting it back and forth to ease it out. Louis winces as it pops out and then his whole body slumps down into the mattress, a sated expression washing over his face, lips curled into a small smile.

Harry quickly divests himself of his briefs one-handed and wraps his hand around his already rock-hard cock bringing it to full hardness with a few firm strokes. It never takes him long to get off after one of their sessions, so riled up at getting to bring Louis such pleasure. He’d happily just jerk off onto his stomach but Louis prefers to finish with Harry buried deep inside him and filling him up with his come. And, as always, what his boy wants, his boy gets.

There’s so much lube he doesn’t bother adding more, just lines himself up and presses inside.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Harry moans as he slides right in. “So perfect for me, baby, so hot and wet. Gonna make you mine, all mine.”

Louis threads his fingers behind Harry’s head and holds on as best he can with his strength not fully recharged. Harry rocks into him, caressing his cheek as Louis blinks his eyes open and gazes up at him; trusting, loving. Harry hikes up Louis’ leg and wraps it around his waist, pushing in deeper and hitting his spot with practiced ease.

Louis is pliant under him, glowing in the aftermath of his intense orgasm. His eyes are unfocused but he’s still with him, still aware of everything that’s happening and participating as best he can even though he’s exhausted. They’ll rest soon enough, but not until the last piece has fallen into place.

Harry starts pulling Louis off again, just gentle drags of his hand. He’s still mostly hard and it never takes much to coax his second orgasm out of him. Louis is letting out little mewls with every thrust of Harry’s hips as he meets him with a lift of pelvis on each one.

Harry’s nearly there, the familiar tightening in his gut a warning sign that this is nearly over, now he needs to get Louis to come with him. It can be a bit hit and miss, and during regular sex it’s much harder, but when Louis is like this he’s far more suggestable so they have a pretty good strike rate. 

Louis brings his hands around to cup Harry’s face, still slightly trembling as he’s being jostled around. “Want you, Haz. Now,” he whispers, his piercing blue eyes reaching into Harry’s very soul and taking his breath away.

Harry speeds up his motions, chasing his release as he leans down and kisses Louis for what feels like the first time in forever. Their tongues glide against each other, hot breath passing between them and making Harry’s head spin. Fuck, he loves him so goddamn much.

Louis slides his fingers into Harry’s hair as he pulls back from the kiss, resting their foreheads together as they both glance down between their bodies, watching as Harry slams in and out of Louis’ hole and his hand twists back and forth, up and down, concentrating on the head of his cock.

“Ready, baby?” Harry asks and feels Louis nod in response. His orgasm crescendos and then he’s falling over the edge twisting his hand harshly at the top of the stroke. “Come with me, Lou.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, vision whiting out, come surging out of him and filling Louis’ hole. Louis whimpers as he comes for the second time over Harry’s fist and onto his stomach. 

They move slowly, each of them sucking every last morsel of pleasure from their releases. Time stands still, the world reduced to just them; two bodies intertwined as one. Harry pulls out and slides over Louis to lay by his side, pulling him in close. Louis turns on his side and burrows into Harry’s chest, wrapping and arm around his waist as their breathing evens out.

Harry lets them rest for a while before speaking again. “You with me? How are you?” He asks, rubbing up and down Louis’ back.

“Yeah, I’m here. Feel amazing. Still floating,” Louis says, words a bit slurred but that will resolve soon enough.

“You did so well. So proud of you,” Harry says and kisses the top of his head. “Love you so much.”

“Mmmm… love you too.”

Harry reaches over to the bedside table and grabs the bottle of water he’d left there earlier, holding it over them as he unscrews the cap and passes it to Louis. “Drink up, baby.”

Louis does as he’s told and hands it back to Harry for him to take a long sip. Harry drags the blanket up from the bottom of the bed with his feet until he can reach it and then drapes it over them. They’re a sticky mess and Louis will start leaking Harry’s come any second, if he hasn’t already, but for now Harry just holds Louis close, revelling in the cocoon they’ve created. A few minutes pass and then Louis breaks the silence. Propping himself up on his elbow and smirking down at Harry.

“You owe me a new red, lace thong.”

Harry chuckles and pulls him over on top of him. “Baby, I’ll happily buy you a drawer full of them.”

“Yeah? I want all different colours too.”

“No problems. Anything my boy wants, my boy gets.”

The smile Louis gives him in response is blinding, even in their dimly lit room. “And don’t you ever forget it,” he sasses and leans down, sealing their lips together.

Harry kisses him back, trying to convey everything he’s feeling. That he’ll never meet anyone else like him. That they’re the perfect fit for each other. That the universe outdid itself when they brought them together. That he would do anything within his power to make him happy for the rest of their lives. His perfect boy. His love. His everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, a kudos or comment or both would be lovely xx
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [ jacaranda-bloom ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/) and if you’d like to reblog my [ Tumblr fic post ](https://jacaranda-bloom.tumblr.com/post/623484212125843456/fuck-u-betta-by-jacaranda-bloom-explicit-11k) that would be lovely!
> 
> PS If you'd like to be notified when I post other stories, you can subscribe [ here ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacaranda_bloom/).


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